


Thank You

by susies_fandom_wonders



Series: Under the Mask [18]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Blood, Dermatillomania, Gen, Suicide, canary picks her skin to the point where it bleeds, hersh stabs himself in his windpipe with the pencil he uses to write journal entries, jay remains with hersh until he's passed, utm au, utm bad end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 10:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17527304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susies_fandom_wonders/pseuds/susies_fandom_wonders
Summary: Jay felt as if something was wrong when he stood guard outside the Professor's cell.





	Thank You

Jay felt as if something was wrong (moreso than usual), the feeling stirring in his gut as he stood outside the professor’s door. He glanced back inside the cell, biting his lip and eyebrows furrowing together as he made out the faint outline of the man in the room, practically motionless except for the small rising and falling of his shoulder as he laid on his side, facing away from the door.

He hadn’t moved since Sparrow had gone in there last, surrounded by small puddles of liquid-y vomit from when the pain had become too much. As Jay began to turn away to face the hallway again, he heard a soft noise – very reminiscent to a sob – come from the broken man on the floor. He looked at the other guard, who was staring back at him, expression unreadable. His partner jerked her head towards the cell.

“You think they finally managed to break him?” She whispered, hands fidgeting at her sides. Jay’s eyes flickered down, drawn to the movement, and found that the woman was picking at the skin around her fingernails – one finger was covered in drying blood, seemingly unnoticed. She followed his gaze, and the movement stopped; she brought her finger up to her face, seemingly trying to figure out where the wound was. She paused in her searching to look at Jay again, expectancy flitting across her vision. Jay cleared his throat.

“It seems that way,” he finally answered. “Though I think he’s been on the edge for a while now. What Sparrow did earlier was….”

She nodded, lips tugging into a frown. “Fucking disgusting, right?” She stuck her finger in her mouth for a moment, gently sucking the blood from her finger. She caught Jay’s expression, and quickly pulled it away, wiping it on her pants, a flush rising to her cheeks. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Jay nodded, lips pursing as he heard a slight movement behind the door he was guarding. “You’re fine.” He motioned weakly after a beat of silence. “Does it hurt?”

“It used to.” She gave a tight smile. Jay blinked, then hummed. “I’m okay – promise.”

“Do you want some gum?”

“A-Ah – sure.” Jay reached into his pocket, pulling out a small package. Pulling out a little silver strip, he held it out to the agent. She blinked, then took it gingerly from his grasp, looking it over carefully before unwrapping the stick and popping it into her mouth.

“It gives you something to focus on.” The agent’s smile slowly softened, became more genuine, as she fiddled with the wrapper absentmindedly, much like how she’d been picking at her hand, gaze somewhere beyond the hallway they were standing in.

“…Thank you.” She looked up at him, blinking behind her glasses. “What’s your name – er, your, uh, your agent name, I guess. I don’t – uhm – I don’t really pay attention who I’m partnered with during assignment.”

“Jay.” A soft gasp from the cell. The bad feeling returned again, twisting in his gut and making his heart begin to race with seemingly no reason at all – his mind raced, screaming at him that something terrible was going to happen. He searched the agent’s face, looking for anything that told him she was experiencing the same thing. Her dead-looking eyes stared back at him (they held absolutely no sparkle, no emotions; completely closed off), as if she didn’t hear the sound at all.

“Canary.” A harsh, wheezing cough. Jay looked into the cell again, then fumbled for his keys, feeling the color drain from his face. Canary blinked, then looked into the cell herself, then gave a soft noise of surprise.

“Go get Owl.” Canary paled.

“But –”

“I know it’s against protocol.” Jay yanked the door open, rushing inside. “But I feel like breaking the rules in this situation is alright.”

Canary turned down the hallway, then began to sprint, footsteps light, nearly silent, on the floor. Jay knelt next to the professor, helping him lay flat on his back and pulling his shaky hands away from the pencil that was embedded into his throat, hands instantly becoming slick with blood. The professor gasped and coughed weakly, blood trickling in thin streams from his mouth and soaking into his hair.

“Sh….” Jay smiled, despite how shaky he felt – tears were rolling down his face. The professor’s eyes were half-lidded, choking on his own blood and struggling to breathe. “Professor, just try to breathe. We’re getting you help, okay? Just breathe.”

The professor’s mouth opened and closed, breaths whistling and rattling in his chest. His skin was shining with sweat, sickly pale and tinted a slight shade of blue. He was cool to the touch, Jay noticed; he stroked his hair in what he hoped was a comforting motion, and one of the professor’s hands reached, movements clumsy and weak as he tried to grab for something. Jay pulled back slightly, and noticed that the Professor’s journal was lying there, just out of the man’s reach. The agent grabbed it, then pressed the small notebook into the professor’s bloody hand; it smeared onto the leather cover as his fingers curled around it. He held it for a moment, then coughed, blood spraying from his mouth. A few tears made their way from the professor’s eyes, and Jay wiped them away.

“You’re going to be okay,” Jay assured him. “It’ll be alright.” The professor looked at him, eyes glazed and looking absolutely exhausted. His arm holding the journal twitched, then moved, flopping over onto Jay’s lap and depositing the small book onto a leg. It slid off, falling to the ground in a soft rustle of paper. The professor’s jaw worked again, desperately trying to speak through the blood filling his throat and mouth, through the pierced windpipe. Jay went still, and a hand grabbed the professor’s holding it loosely and waiting for the professor to say what he needed to.

“I –” The professor’s voice was hoarse, raspy – weak and whistling. Jay watched as his lips moved, desperately trying to hear the last words (they were _not_ , Jay hopefully reminded himself, everything would be alright – and yet he knew, he _knew_ , that the professor would be dead before Owl and Canary returned) the professor wanted to tell him. “’m – so – sor –” Jay understood what the Professor was trying to say; the hand holding the professor’s tightened slightly as his other began running through his hair again.

“It’s alright – it’s alright. Take it easy, professor.”

“Hhh –” The man grimaced weakly, giving a wheezing hiss – his breathing was beginning to slow, eyes slipping shut. “Th – tha – yo–u –” Jay was silent, and he could faintly hear quick footsteps coming his way, drowning out the professor’s weak, rattling breaths as they finally came to a halt. Jay continued to stroke the professor’s hair, the motion automatic and comforting. Jay’s hands – his clothing – was streaked with sticky, drying blood. The agent felt far away – knowing that he was holding a dead person’s hand – stroking his hair – was overwhelming.

“Jay?” When had Owl knelt next to him? She was pulling his hands away from the Professor’s body, cupping his cheek and turning his face to look at him fully. “Let’s get you to the medical wing, alright? There’s nothing that can be done about him.”

“Wh –” Jay’s mind whirled – his voice didn’t feel like it was his own. “Why do I need to –?”

“You’re in emotional shock.” Owl looked up at Canary, who hadn’t come into the room, instead hanging in the doorway and staring between the professor’s corpse and Jay, eyes wide. “Canary, let’s get you to the medical wing, too.”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was monotonous, didn’t change pitch or tone, quiet and floating into the room – though her eyes flashed with a hidden emotion before it was carefully masked once again. Owl narrowed her eyes, and Canary shrunk back a bit, hand going up to her collarbone. “Really.”

Owl hummed, then turned to Jay, helping him to his feet and placing an arm around his shoulders. She led him to the door, and Canary stepped back, looking at the ground. Owl paused near her, and Canary glanced up at her before she looked back down, body carrying a fine tremble and breathing so soft it might as well have been nonexistent.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. Owl paused, then placed a hand on Canary’s shoulder. She pulled back when the agent flinched violently, looking up at Owl and a deep frown tugging at her lips. “I… I’m sorry.”

Owl stared at her for a moment before slowly and gently placing her hand back on Canary’s shoulder. “Let’s go to the medical wing,” she said softly. “We all need a break.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wondering what's going on?
> 
> Visit the blog for this AU [here](https://pl-utm-au.tumblr.com/).


End file.
